


Ever/Always

by Deus_Ex



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Author Can't Tag, Canon Compliant, Duelling, Elder Wand (Harry Potter), Fantastic Beasts Compliant, Grindeldore, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Lies, Love/Hate, M/M, OTP Feels, Patronus, Post-Movie 2: Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald, Truth, grindelwald is a dick, i might continue this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 09:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16678957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deus_Ex/pseuds/Deus_Ex
Summary: Lie: [lahy]noun-a false statement made with deliberate intent to deceive; an intentional untruth; a falsehood.-something intended or serving to convey a false impression; imposture-an inaccurate or false statement; a falsehood-something Gellert Grindelwald never once uttered to Albus Dumbledore





	Ever/Always

**Author's Note:**

> I am officially on board this ship and I will fucking go down with it. Spoilers maybe? If you haven't read Deathly Hallows?

If anyone had told him, at that moment, that he had just made history, he would have laughed. Scorned the idea. Shaken his head and rebuked the speaker, reminding them that he only ever did what he should have done long ago. Owing no reason or explanation, he would have simply turned and walked away and left his words hanging bitterly in the air between them, letting them hover and drift and eventually come to rest over the proud form of his defeated opponent, who wore even his downfall well. This was too bitter, too angry, too malicious, to be history. History was glorious and righteous and flawless and this...this was anything but.

They had an audience, Albus reminded himself as he stood there, staring down his blonde-haired rival. All of the things he'd wanted to say would have to go unspoken. All of the ways he wanted to make this right would have to fall by the wayside. All of the wrong between them would never be made right. But it seemed like Gellert almost didn't mind. For someone who had just lost everything, he appeared oddly satisfied. Almost proud. Like he'd hoped Albus would do it. His head was still high, his shoulders thrown back, his hand still poised in the follow-through of his last spell, just a split second too late. Even in defeat, Albus was certain no one would ever look as captivating as Gellert Grindelwald.

The entire scene had held its breath, even for dozens of counts after the wand had finally left Gellert's hand and found Albus's. Slowly, though, it started to show signs of life again. The scenery rippled as the people composing it began to turn to those on either side of them; the streets breathed as whispers began to flow. Gradually, they increased in volume and quantity until the Aurors began to come out of the woodwork and approach Gellert. Wary, skittish, none of them seemed keen on making eye contact with the Dark Wizard, let alone taking him into custody, but eventually, their sense of duty and trust in Albus won out. Standing there, stagnant, frozen, Albus merely watched as Gellert was wrestled to the ground and forcibly restrained.

His entire core ached. It was nothing less than agony to watch, but Albus made himself do it anyway. Out of sheer respect, he bore the pain for the man he so loved, and who had so brutally turned against him. Gellert was surprisingly compliant, whether from respect for Albus, respect for the duel, or a newfound timidness at the reminder of his own mortality, Albus didn't know. Nor did he ask. At first, Gellert had held his gaze somewhat defiantly, and Albus felt the bone-crushing weight of what he'd done as acutely as if Gellert had screamed it for the entire street to hear; then, he kindly lowered his head, and spared Albus the terrible sting of his accusatory glare. For the look had been weighted, certainly; Albus would gladly eat whatever vitriol Gellert had for him. It would seem, though, that he had none he wished to speak.

At last, the Aurors were satisfied with their work, and pulled Gellert back to his feet, proclaiming his sentence boldly and loudly: death. Death, as he had just as readily and proudly proclaimed for so many others, and then dealt. Now, Albus looked away, unable to take it any longer. Gellert still somehow looked pleased with himself, eyes alight with the same fire that had burned there when he asked Albus to join him on his great quest for the Deathly Hallows, when he'd asked if Albus would help him further his journey for The Greater Good, when he'd asked Albus to make the blood-oath that had nearly undone an entire age, when he'd asked Albus to come to bed with him...all of it haunted Albus like a ghoul in the attic. It brought a taste like acid to his tongue when he realized it, but he couldn't stop the thought before it flitted dangerously across his mind: _If I had known, I may not have battled for victory..._

"Can you let them do it to me, Albus?"

He visibly flinched at the sound of Gellert's voice, so much softer and yet so much more powerful than any of the Aurors who dared to lay their hands on him. The scuff of his boots on the cobblestone and the zip of spells flying through the air was utterly inconsequential to Albus's ears when his lover (former?) was speaking. Ducking his head, praying that Gellert would not push and bring to light this secret of theirs, Albus was hard-pressed to swallow memories of other times Gellert had cried his name so forcefully, elatedly, playfully. Still, despite his obvious turmoil, Gellert did not relent, even as he nonchalantly allowed the Aurors to push him forward: "Can you let them murder me, Albus? The man who you cared so deeply for, who cared so deeply for you in return-?"

"Don't lie to me!" The words had left his tongue like the lash of a whip before he had time to contemplate them. By the time his eyes found Gellert's, they had already landed with terrible impact. Gone was the playful spark, replaced by cold but genuine intrigue; Gellert looked pensive, like he was considering something interesting he had not entertained before. Albus was horrified to see that Gellert had gone oddly quiet then. He was entirely immobile, as if Stunned, staring unblinkingly at Albus, but all the pushing and threatening from the Aurors couldn't move him. Utterly stone-like, he was, and it was positively terrifying to behold.

"Expecto Patronum."

The words were like a lover's caress; they brushed across Albus's consciousness with bitter familiarity, finding all the paths Gellert's hands had traced a thousand times. Effortlessly fitting into all of the slivers and gashes and furrows their parting had left on Albus's soul, and running through them until Albus was so dreadfully filled with the sound he thought he might explode. The crowd gasped, screamed, cowered, recoiled as one; the Aurors shouted; Albus glanced up, and nearly collapsed at the sight.

A phoenix, silvery and wispy and light, had taken flight above them. The magic had been torn out of Gellert with such force that bits of it still lingered about him in tiny little curls that drifted slowly to the ground. The Aurors had also leaped, yelled, swore, come back at Gellert with punishing force, but Gellert was again statuesque and unperturbed by their efforts to bring him to hand. In that moment, it was frighteningly clear that Albus's earlier question had been answered: Gellert was indeed only checked by his respect for Albus. Now, not even the strongest of Aurors and the strongest of spells could hold him. Albus knew those bindings would hold any other witch or wizard, yet Gellert had broken through them easily to cast the Patronus.

"I never once lied to you, Albus," Gellert said firmly, but there was still just the touch of yielding softness that Albus knew to mean that Gellert was begging him to believe him, in his own way. For a man like Gellert Grindelwald never truly did bend his pride enough to beg, at least, not in public, not like this-

And the phoenix persisted, crooning its sweet melody as it soared above them into the cloudless blue sky. And while all others had been shocked by such a powerful Charm cast through such stringent bindings, Albus was only truly shocked by its form. He and Gellert merely stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, each trying to say what he so desperately needed to say-and then, finally, Albus accepted what had to be done. For he'd always known, on some level, that no one else could ever truly have responsibility for Gellert. Albus himself had created this monster; only he could ever hope to bridle it.

"Give him to me," he ordered, astonished at how calm and level his own voice sounded as his gaze returned to the Aurors and Gellert with newfound determination in its depths. Immediately, the Aurors halted, and Albus was nearly sick as he registered the sound of an enraged, _"Crucio!"_ still resonating in his ears. But Gellert was unfazed, untouched, unruffled: and Albus could only wonder in awe as to how on earth he managed any of it at all.

"Are you sure?" one witch daringly questioned. "We know the risks we are taking, but it is our duty-"

"No. It is mine," Albus firmly refuted, effectively bringing any discussion to a screeching halt before it began. "He has just shown us, very clearly, that mine is the only hand he will respect. I won't have more lives lost on his behalf."

The Aurors backed away slowly, wide-eyed and jumpy, as if they were releasing a wind animal that might turn and bite at any moment. Their gazes flickered constantly between Gellert and Albus until they could fix both wizards in their sights. Without fear, Albus stepped forward and, with a single wave of his newly-won wand, dispelled the cruel bindings from Gellert's arms. As claimed, Gellert made no move against him as he approached, merely standing evenly and letting Albus come well within arm's reach with not much more than a knowing smirk. Unbothered by the return of the smug look, Albus reached up with his free hand and took the nape of Gellert's neck in a possessive, dominant hold that dredged up plenty of memories. Dragging their heads together, he closed his eyes and let the harsh breaths come quicker as they raked down his raw throat. This close, he could almost _taste_ him, musk thick on the air with his sweat- "You are a damn fool," he sighed, and if Gellert didn't chuckle at that-!

The dance of fingers across the back of his wrist was a wretched comfort to him. "Only ever your fool."

Here was the truth of those words, Albus mused. Gellert Grindelwald, the most powerful Dark Wizard the world had ever known, stood here now, complacent in his hands. Facing a lifetime of imprisonment or worse, he nevertheless delivered himself into Albus's authority. On some level, maybe he knew: that he'd been wrong, that he'd gone too far, that this was the most difficult thing Albus had ever had to do and it felt like plunging his dull nails into his chest and pushing and ripping until the tissue gave way and then wrapping vice-like around his heart and removing the organ by blunt dissection-

"Ever," Albus repeated in a reverent whisper as he began to Disaparate, Gellert at his side;

"Always," Gellert answered, leaving the echo in the street where once they stood.

**Author's Note:**

> I hate this. I might write more. Send help.


End file.
